


Games

by vivific



Category: Super Smash Brothers
Genre: Gen, the character list is pretty much anyone in SSBB and SSB4
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 03:49:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5482253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivific/pseuds/vivific
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Smash Universe, as Crazy called it, had changed a lot from its unintentional creation. It wasn't until the defeat of Tabuu and the severing of the Smash world and the real life that the Smash universe truly became a safe haven for people across the multi-verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Games

The red plush toy slammed into the green one, a dramatized sound emphasizing the hit echoing through the small room. Posters lined the bright walls of a child's bedroom.

On the floor sat the aforementioned child, a stuffed toy in each hand. The green one laid on top of a stack of books, but picked itself up with the help of the child, and lunged at the red. The other toy flew back magnificently, cartwheeling in an arc over the small stool and fell to the wooden floor with a thump.

The child giggled, the green figurine posing triumphantly over its fallen brethren.

In the child's mind, the battle had played out spectacularly. Every motion was imagined in full detail, every swipe of a sword, punch of a flaming fist, or kick of an armoured leg occurred in the fantastical action of an imagined world. Falling to the ground happened slower than in reality, the force taken to fling someone across the floor varied with the enthusiasm of the child.

The child reset the area.

The stack of books moved to the opposite end of the area, the small stool positioned next to it, and a cardboard box was situated across from the two "platforms".

The child pondered, setting back the red and green plush toys with an array of other stuffed ones laid out in a wooden chest amongst other toys. Brown, pink, another green, yellow... Which one to pick?

Finally, the second green plush and the yellow one were chosen. The child positioned them carefully on the stage, and announced in as deep of a voice as a child of that age could possibly manage.

"Three, two, one- go!"

_\--_

Pikachu eyed his opponent carefully. Link was an adept fighter, both up close and from afar. Having fought him multiple times (there were only twelve of them, after all), he knew his tactics. Unfortunately, that also meant that Link knew his as well.

The Pokemon braced himself as the green-clad fighter leapt over the gap between their platforms and headed towards him. As the Hylian sprang up and swung his sword down upon the mouse-like creature, Pikachu jumped up, dodging the attack and let loose a burst of electricity, shocking Link and causing him to plummet to the ground.

Pikachu recovered easily, landing on his paws and turning around. His cheeks sparked with energy.

Link stood, not at all affected by a rush of electricity through his body. In the blink of an eye, he sheathed his sword and brought out his bow. Pikachu jumped to avoid the arrow, and charged at the humanoid.

Far from the action, and yet so close, a disembodied white glove surveyed the scene. Its motion was repetitive, the swaying of fingers reaching out as though to grasp something continuously. Even for an animated glove, there seemed to be no life in the being, if it could even be called such.

The battle continued, until at one point, Pikachu was flung off the platforms and hurtled towards the abyss.

The glove reacted instantly, disappearing from its unknown location as a spectator and entering the fight. The Pokemon was caught in its palm, carefully and gently, and brought up back to the stage. He leapt off of the glove's palm instantly, seeming completely healed from any damage he suffered from Link's attacks.

The glove disappeared back to its role as a spectator. It didn't show any sign of emotion, feeling or reaction unless one of the fighters fell off the platforms. Despite its lack of movement or expression, even as a simple glove, it seemed to still care for the fighters.

Finally, after five falls off the stage between both parties, Link was declared victorious. A disembodied voice cried out the final results, and with that, the glove disappeared.

The stage changed, and ten other spectators cheered on the victor. Pikachu sulked briefly, but eventually padded over to the Hylian and gave him a congratulatory "Pika!"

Link grinned, and bent down to pick up the Pokemon. Pikachu acquiesced, and rubbed his face against the Hylian's chest, cheeks sparking contently.

It was only a fight between friends, of course. Even if they didn't quite know why they were all there.

_\---_

"Hey! Be careful with that!"

Triumphant giggles filled the room, as one child chased another. In the other child's hands was a rigid figurine, red and resembling a long-ago packed away plush toy.

"It's just a toy, jeez," the other child scoffed, stopping the chase and tossing the red figurine back to the first.

"It's important to me!" The first child exclaimed, catching the toy carefully _as they had every time before_. The toy was set down on the shelf of other figurines. The array of figurines had expanded from the days of plush toys, brightly colored and varying in size and shape. "You're always so rough with them, too!"

"Well, it's not like mom won't buy you a new one if you break it." The other child shrugged.

"That's not what I mean!" The first child insisted, arms crossed.

"Whatever~" The child singsonged. "You never let me play in this game of yours anyway."

"Because you never play by the rules!"

"What rules? If it's your game, shouldn't you get to make them up?"

"That doesn't mean you can just change them whenever you want!"

"Pfft, whatever you say." The child shrugged, acting nonchalant. "It's not like I wanna play your game anyway."

"Ha, that wasn't what you were saying last week."

The other child seemed about to say something out of spite, but glanced over the first child's shoulders at the shelf of figurines. Epic battles played out mentally, each figurine moving and clashing with another, so different from the rigid poses on the shelves.

The first child noticed the longing look.

"If you promise not to be too rough with them, I'll let you play with me."

The second child looked away, arms still crossed. The act fell.

"All right, I promise. But you know they could really handle much more than what I could do."

"Maybe in our imaginations."

The two picked out two figurines each, and quickly turned the room upside down to set a stage.

_\---_

The fighter breathed out heavily, steadying herself as two gloved hands descended from the darkened sky, landing on opposing sides of the stage.

Zelda concentrated, sparks of light at her fingertips. Oh, how she wished she could fight as two separate people, it would make matches against the two Hands much easier.

She activated her bubble shield as the left glove smashed down over her. The shield trembled under the weight of the strike and she released it and dodged before it broke. She couldn't afford a moment to waste in such a fast-paced battle.

Leaping back, she kneeled on the ground and focused, imagining the heavy dress leaving her, magical powers vanishing in exchange for speed and physical strength.

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out.

The time she spent focusing on the transformation took much less time than it appeared to herself. To an outsider, the blue flash signifying her change of character took less than a second.

Sheik sprung away just as the right glove hammered down in a fist. A royal dress changed into skin-tight ninja-like garb, the long braid vanishing into the disguise. Red eyes peered out from the bandaged face.

Needles replaced flowing magic gifted by the gods, and Sheik lunged at the left glove, its erratic and unpredictable movements deeming it a first priority.

Hit, hit, dodge, duck, counter strike, fail, recover, defend, hit, dodge the attack from the right glove, and repeat.

On occasions, Sheik would fall from the basic platform. Despite their fighting, one of the gloves would catch the fighter without fail and bring them up to the stage. Sheik's heart slowed in pounding and breathing became easier. The effect of the blows from the disembodied gloves' attacks seemed to fade instantly.

Energy coursed through the disguised fighter and the fight resumed.

Sheik switched back to Zelda in time to teleport away from an attack from the gloves.

Finally, _finally_ , Zelda landed a magic-fueled blow on the left glove, causing it cry out in dramatic agony and fling away from the stage. Zelda couldn't help but smile, not at her victory, but at the reaction of the glove.

She couldn't celebrate yet, however. She spun around and ducked as the right glove formed a fake gun with its fingers. Even if it wasn't an actual gun in its glove, a beam of pure energy burst from the finger tips, and Zelda felt the hairs on her neck stand on end as the beam shot over her body.

The princess stood and charged a blast. The right glove was slowing, weary, or faking it at the least. Even if it was, she knew that with a few more hits, the glove would fly away from the platform with the same dramatic cry as its twin.

The blast rocketed towards the glove, and Zelda hurried to follow up with more attacks. She screamed as the glove grabbed at her and squeezed. In reality, she knew it didn't hurt _that_ much, but it would affect her fight nevertheless.

The Hylian princess managed to land on her feet as she was flung into the platform. The ominous glove hovered over her. Resolve coursing through her, she gathered up the last of her strength, and prayed to the goddesses.

The attack nearly blinded her, energy leaving her as she drifted softly to the ground. A similar, more composed cry rang out through the stage, and Zelda turned to see the right glove drifting away into the abyss dramatically.

She smiled. No matter how distant and inhuman they appeared, Master Hand and Crazy Hand truly did care for the fighters and their happiness.

\---

Moonlight shone through the window, the curtains left open to let in whatever summer breeze could enter the room and offer some sort of relief from the humid night.

A teenager tossed and turned in the bed, mumbling incoherently as a pillow ended up on the floor.

The room had changed a lot in the years the resident had grown. Where a toy chest had become a shelf of figurines had become a table of newer figurines had been cleared and emptied of all toys. Things were neat and tidied, the floor was uncluttered with stacked books and boxes, and the desk held only books for reading and studying.

The teenager woke up abruptly. A quiet gasp of surprise, and then fearful eyes blinked open to see the blank ceiling of the room.

It seemed so quiet that one could possibly hear the rapid beating of a heart.

The teenager breathed out slowly, trying to calm down. Fists clenched a featureless bed sheet.

The bed creaked softly as the teen sat up, pushing the covers away from them. They carefully crawled out of bed, bare feet tapping quietly against the wooden floor that was once littered with books and toys.

A shiver ran down the teen's spine. _Forget about it_ , a harsh voice whispered. _That's childish._

The teenager sat on the ground with a thump, ignoring how the sound could possibly wake up the other residents of the house. The pillow was picked up and clutched to the teen's chest.

 _Crying is childish_ , the voice reminded. _You're not a child anymore._

The teenager breathed in slowly, and stopped as a sniffle echoed through the room.

 _Oh no,_ the voice said sarcastically, _you're not going to actually start crying now, are you?_

"I'm not." The teen murmured to the empty room, holding the pillow closer to them. "I'm not crying."

 _Then go back to bed already,_ the voice was dry and bored. _You have things to do tomorrow._

The teen shuddered, clutching the pillow like it was a lifesaver and they were drowning.

The toys would have been stronger, was a thought in their mind. The toys didn't have adult responsibilities. They didn't have to do exams and go to university and get a job they didn't like. The toys travelled through worlds and fought villains and occasionally _were_ villains and had powers and strength.

 _Get over it~_ the voice singsonged. _Everyone else has_.

The teenager dug their fingers into the pillow. Their twin sibling had moved on, of course. They wanted to believe that it was because the collection of toys were in their bedroom, and as they grew older it became more important for each of them to stay out of the other's room, but the teen knew that the room was always open to their sibling if they were playing the game.

But their sibling had stopped playing with them, and slowly, so had they.

School work, community work, career paths and other things slowly consumed more of their lives. They spent more time doing important adult things than they did sleeping nowadays.

After coming home with a failing grade, the toys had been packed up and stuffed in the attic.

"You'll get them back if you can raise your mark," their parents had said, and the teen didn't find it in themselves to respond that they hadn't touched the toys in weeks.

The mark had gone back up to an acceptable percentage, and while the box of toys had been retrieved from the attic with a light layer of dust on it, it remained in the closet under the organized row of clothes.

Tears streamed down the teen's face, soaking the pillow as they cried into it. It wasn't _fair_.

The statement sounded like proof of their childishness.

The sniffles were muffled by the pillow, the teenager adamant to keep anyone from hearing and entering the room. The voice in their head had gone silent.

It wasn't as though they couldn't play the game in their free time. It wasn't as though adulthood was so dull and boring and time-consuming they couldn't find anything else to alleviate the boredom.

The pillow was flung to the side as the teen scrambled to their feet, rushing for the closet as quietly as they could. They pulled the box out of the closet and glided it over to the centre of the room. It had accumulated more dust in the dark, but the teen paid it no mind as they opened the box flaps and pulled out the figurines.

More had been added since the years before when the two twins finally agreed to play together regularly. One of them had even been from a game neither of them were technically old enough to play, but managed to hide the rating of the game from their parents.

The figurines seemed as new the day they had been bought, though covered in light layers of dust that almost made the teenager sneeze.

Who cared about the adult world?

The figurines sprung to life before their eyes, and the teenager constructed imaginary fights for the first time in months. The glee and happiness of make-believe rushed through them, the pressures of real life forgotten in the hours they played with the figures.

Eventually, the teenager began to fall asleep, setting down the figurines and laying down on the wooden floor. The sound of laser guns and magical wings and feet crashing with the ground echoed through their mind.

A man with the wings of a butterfly interrupted the fight, and seemed to charge straight at the teen. In the logic of a dream, they couldn't run, couldn't flee, but suddenly a blur of blue shattered the man's wings, and a horde of beings appeared in from of them.

They recognized each and every one, every face and every weapon.

The teen smiled, and held a gloved right hand close to their chest.

They were free at last.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Note before the next chapter, I have like, very little experience playing with most of the characters in SSBB and SSB4, so apologies for sticking with the mostly well-known characters.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
